Bassist Composer

Ghosts and Ballyhoo

Ghosts and Ballyhoo: Memoirs of a Failed L.A. Music Journalist, by Thomas
Wictor. Available from Schiffer Books in the fall of 2012. Anthology Six:
Abyss 2003-2011 [chapter title]

Flashback: A Druid in Los Angeles Stephen Jay has been "Weird Al"
Yankovic's bassist for over thirty years. However, he's also a
multi-instrumentalist, vocalist, lyricist, and classically trained composer
who studied with John Cage, Lukas Foss, Max Neuhaus, and Charles Wuorinen;
in addition, he's also a music ethnographer who's traveled the world
playing with and recording folk musicians from multiple cultures. Finally,
he's one of the most technically skilled, innovative, and melodic
bassists alive. The music of his film and TV scores and his solo albums is
genuinely astonishing. He's developed a hybrid picking-slapping technique
like nothing I've ever seen. It allows him to play rhythm and lead at
the same time, as well as superimposing different meters on the same
pattern, a technique he describes as "polymetric triangulation."
"That's the way I think of focusing on the groove. You use two meters
at once. If you're playing in 4/4, you can nail your groove and feel the
inertia, but as soon as somebody starts playing a three-figure against
that, all of a sudden the groove locks. It works the same way as a sextant
or a global-positioning system by having two fixed points of reference and
your own position, creating a triangle that allows you to determine exactly
where you are. The way it works in music, its focusing time to determine
more closely where 'now' is, and the groove is basically all about
'now,' the source, where things comes from. It's the edge of
creation, where that which didn't exist before suddenly does and then
doesn't again. That's the essence of the groove. By staying closer to
that origin, the source-point of 'now,' we can ride along right on the
edge. It's always going to be two against three, or four against six, or
eight against five. You and another musician can play different meters, or
you can play different meters in your own part. "Let's say you're
playing eighth notes, alternating between a loud and a soft. You're
going up and down with your thumb, an up-stroke and a down-stroke. Then
you can switch from accenting every other note--a straight two--and you
start accenting every third one. Rather than changing your technique to
produce a three-pattern, such as two strokes down and one up, or one down
and two up, you keep that two-pattern as your technique but superimpose
accents in alternating positions along the pattern. You've got a really
nice two-pattern going, and you superimpose the three on top of it,
producing the same triangulating effect as a sextant, pointing you to where
the 'now' is. It can get really complex. This happens spontaneously
as you play, as opposed to it being something you've rehearsed
beforehand." He slaps eight- and twelve-string basses in a way that makes
him sound like an entire band. Discovering Jay's incredible talent was
like finding a chest of gold doubloons in a lagoon where you thought
you'd be lucky to pick up a few pretty shells. He's the only bassist
with superhuman technical skill I ever saw whose chops never overwhelmed
the music and actually created a deep emotional resonance. When I attended
shows put on by Ak & Zuie, a duo consisting of Stephen and drummer Pete
Gallagher, I was actually transported into an entirely different plane of
perception, due to the intricate interplay of the bass and drums. Stephen
told me it's based on decades of studying how rhythm and melody can
change brain chemistry and make you feel good. Also, the overtones and
polyrhythms interact in such a way as to make you think you're hearing an
entire ensemble. Jay calls the invention "polymetric funk." He also
uses his Theory of Harmonic Rhythm,[1] his discovery that a consonant
harmonic interval produces a consonant regularly rhythmic interval,
creating a "universal substance" between harmony and rhythm. By being
aware of the symmetry between harmony and rhythm, and by being aware of the
delicacy and scale on which harmony and rhythm focus with each other, a
kind of musical sympathy can be achieved. As Jay told me, "A simple
example would be if you were going to write a song in A, and you're tuned
to 440, and you make your song tempo 109. Every time you start a cycle in
an A 440--let's imagine that you can be mathematically perfect in your
beginnings--if your tempo is 109, that waveform would always be chopped off
before it completed itself because the tempo isn't 110, a subdivision of
440. So by simply synching up the tempo to the pitch, playing it exactly
the right tempo for the pitch you're playing, you create complete waveforms
rather than incomplete waveforms. They're broken up evenly. When little
things like that are expanded out to the scale of how each individual note
in a chord works in relation to the other notes in the chord, it becomes an
equation that's so immensely complex that it seems to me like it would be
incalculable, and that's what makes music magic." Some scientists believe
Stonehenge was built to enhance the experience of the drumming and chanting
rituals performed by the druids. When I attended Ak & Zuie concerts,
the polymetric triangulation, polymetric funk, and Theory of Harmonic
Rhythm combined to create moments when I entered a trancelike state, and I
had to ask myself, What's going on here? It was the only time in my
ten-year career that music did that to me. I suddenly understood the true
power of music and its ability to induce euphoria. Ak & Zuie backed me
up at some of my readings for In Cold Sweat, a surreal and magical
escapade. I fell deeply in love with an instrumental Stephen played for me
that he said might go on a future album. That composition stayed in my
head for years, though I couldn't remember the title. I didn't want to
contact Stephen because of the shame and humiliation I felt over the
collapse of my career in music journalism. He told me the title of the
piece on April 15, 2012; "Telenergy," on his CD Tangled Strings. It
was a great relief to rediscover it. Stephen writes far too many brilliant
songs for me to list, but some of the standouts on his many solo albums are
"Big Shoes," "Go Like This," "Deny the Accuser," "Tangled
Strings," "Suva," "Self Avoiding Random Walk," "The Mistake,"
"What the Voodoo Became," "Underwater," "What They Say," and
"Hungry Target." All are dumbfounding confluences of musicality,
lyricism, vocal skills, and--above all--effortless bass prowess that never
distracts. Perfect Stephen Jay samplers are his albums Sea Never Dry and
Self Avoiding Random Walk, both on the Ayarou Music label and available on
his Web site. They contain songs that you can sing or hum after just one
listening, despite their devilish complexity. My favorite track on Sea
Never Dry is "Trouble," a traditional Turkish song that Stephen
adapted, writing his own lyrics. Ashram in the bedroom Solemn like
soldiers Happiness in hell fire Sadness in heaven Who called this meeting
Who knows the reason Who are all of these people Happy like children Empty
like cauldrons Happy to be here Swallowed not eaten Taken not bitten Who
made them lay down Jah must have made them Ghost made them play dumb Saved
for no ending

The combination of the middle-eastern melody and instrumentation, the
passion of the singing, and the ambiguity of the lyrics makes this one of
Stephen's most memorable efforts. Tim told me that his art teacher in
college said, "Great art asks more questions than it answers."
That's my position, too. I don't know what these lyrics mean, which
is why I like them. According to Francis Bacon--one of my favorite
painters--the job of the artist is to always deepen the mystery. It's
an approach Stephen Jay has taken to heart. Ak & Zuie do something
indescribable to cover songs, too. Their versions of "Cinnamon Girl"
by Neil Young and "Rock On" by David Essex are unforgettable and
immensely moving. Listening to Stephen Jay was one of the rare times as a
music journalist that I felt privileged to be in the presence of such
greatness. In my career Scott Thunes, Gene Simmons, John Taylor, Andy
West, Bryan Beller, and Stephen Jay made the most lasting impressions on
me as both accomplished artists and people. The music that entered my
very being--separately from its creators--and made a permanent change was
the work of Ray Shulman, Scott Thunes, and Stephen Jay.

God Only Guards the Tool Shed When I sent the short story "Flashback: A
Druid in Los Angeles" to Stephen Jay for his approval, he responded with a
remarkably affecting e-mail.

Reading your heartfelt words about the music I write was for me hitting
the motherload. I mean that in this way: Until you hit the motherload, as
a miner working on blind and sometimes delusional faith, you really have
no way of knowing if there's "gold in them thar hills" or not. Your words
convinced me that there is. I have now, as of this day, July 1, 2012,
"seen" it. And I am forever changed.

This is really wonderful. Over the years many people have given me very
positive feedback. But no one has ever expressed experiencing the
transformative power as persuasively as you have. Your gift as a writer
has enabled you to open my mind up to the most important truth there can
be for me. That I should continue writing.

I came up to my studio this morning to work on a new song that really
slips the bounds. It's called "God Only Guards The Tool Shed." It came to
me in a literal flash, with no clue of why or what it meant. On reflection
I realized that it could be a very nice way of saying we can have faith in
our capabilities. Something in the universe appears to favor that idea.
I love writing music like a climber loves tackling Everest, because it's
almost impossible and yet sometimes it feels like you can get there. It
can be more painful and challenging than anything else I have experienced.
As you know, the strength to jump off the cliff and become fully engaged
to do that are always the issues.

Who knows where that strength comes from? Well, this morning I do.
It comes directly from you! I am so energized and encouraged by what you
said that this song is going to be fantastic. The essence of
collaboration! Here we go. You will hear the new song very soon.

Thank you! Steve

The song is indeed fantastic. It's beyond genre. The best way to
describe it would be a kind of reggae-tango with completely unexpected
rhythms, changes, melodies, and vocals that elicit powerful emotions.
Stephen somehow managed the incredible feat of creating a song that's
uplifting and mournful at the same time. It mysteriously, ingeniously
articulates the gamut of the human condition, and it asks far more
questions than it answers. Here are some of the lyrics.

It feels like that's what it's for God only guards the tool shed
Maybe a little more Than before we started Using the tools like
instruments Only way that matters now Is if it all stays safe and sound I
hear what they're saying today Better clean up the tool shed Put all the
stuff away Spend the day finding each tool a proper place All the saws and
solder guns And lock it all up once it's Done and gone and put away
You-know-who's guarding it night and day Over her shoulder Those
all-seeing eyes Might envision a grander prize Than I can disguise

Everybody's had déjà vu, the phenomenon of feeling you've
experienced something before and you're reliving it. The French term
means "already seen." You've also had presque vu, or "almost
seen," the sensation of being on the brink of an epiphany. It's when
a word, name, or memory is on the tip of your tongue. Stephen Jay is the
undisputed master of musical presque vu. He offers glimpses of meaning,
and you almost grasp what he's saying. It can be maddening, but therein
lies the potency of great art. I'm humbled to have played even a tiny
part in the creation of this terrific song. It also helped me realize
that what I've been doing recently is putting my tools in their proper
places as I envision a grander prize. I believe that God does guard the
tool shed, but it's entirely up to us to use our tools properly, keep
them in working order, and clean them. Thank you, Stephen, for both the
gift of this song and a more poetic way for me to express one of my deeply
held convictions.